The Voyeur Next Door (7 page)

“Earl was asking for you this morning,” he said at the exact same moment. “But he didn’t know how to get a hold of you.”

“So, you’re stalking me?”

His eyes narrowed. “I came to get a few things for the flat and saw you.”

It was then that I noticed the cart behind him, filled with things like whole grain and soy. It was all the things in the organic, healthy choices aisle I usually avoided like the plague and children.

“Wow!” I mused, unable to suppress my amazement, and mild amusement. “You’re really taking this mountain man thing to the next level, huh?”

So I had to admit that his beard wasn’t too terrible outside the rustic grunge of his auto body shop. Dressed in black with those intense gray eyes, he actually kind of looked … hot, like a really buff rocker.

“Mountain man?”

I decided to avoid his question by reaching for another carton of eggs. I gingerly set it down in the little spot reserved for children and started moving forward.

“How is Earl?” I asked, feeling the full power of Gabriel’s eyes burning holes into my spine.

“Upset.” He fell into step alongside me with his cart lining up with mine. “He really has his heart set on you working at the shop.”

“And you still hate it,” I ventured, already knowing the answer.

“Yes.” At least he was honest. “I will never like the idea.” He turned his head and I was caught in those silvery eyes. “But if this is important to Earl, I’ll learn to get over it.”

“Just like that?” I stopped walking and turned to him. “You’ll put up with me because your grandfather is upset?”

He stopped next to me and nudged the knuckle of one bent finger against the bill of his cap.

“Earl raised me after my dad died,” he said evenly. “He did all the things a dad would do with his kid right down to beating my ass when I deserved it. There is very little I wouldn’t do for him, even if it means putting up with you.”

While I wasn’t thrilled at being
put up with
, I came to the notion that I needed a job. Badly. I also had nothing lined up, nor had I bothered looking for anything since moving back and it wasn’t because I was lazy. I had wanted to take the time off and enjoy … me. Between getting emotionally stifled by my mother and then working my brains to soup at school, I had no idea who I was. It was the first time in twenty-three years where I got to do what I wanted, where I was the boss of me. But the time for fun and games was over. I had to join the world of the responsible adult.

“Okay,” I said. “But I have one condition.”

Gabriel gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“I only work until six.”

Gabriel didn’t ask why. Maybe he figured I had some hot social life, or maybe he was at the point where he would agree to anything to appease his grandfather. Either way, I was relieved. I wasn’t sure how to explain my after hour curricular activities to him. I highly doubted neighbor watching would classify as a normal hobby. I didn’t think he would understand. But I paid for my things—paying double for the eggs to cover the cost of the ones I annihilated across the dairy aisle floor—and left the grocery store. Gabriel didn’t follow. He turned his cart in the opposite direction after our talk and disappeared through the throng of frustrated mothers and screaming children.

At home, I packed everything away and made my way into the bedroom with a fruit cup and a spoon. I turned the TV on to some random channel, then made my way to the terrace doors. I pushed them open and stood watching the blank windows. It was still early, too early for anyone to be home. Even Large, Hairy Man had a day job. His battered and severely dented recliner sat lonely and empty in the shabby state of his apartment. But my main focus was the patio straight across from mine. A hot surge of liquid desire coursed through me and pooled in my center. I felt the clench of my muscles grasping for something that wasn’t there and I forgot all about my fruit cup.

Could I? Could I call him and set up a time to meet and fuck? Could I really be that daring? While I wasn’t some wilting wallflower, I wasn’t exactly a leap into the lion’s den kind of girl either. It took a year for me to let my last boyfriend get into my pants. I wouldn’t even wear shorts around him. When we did finally have sex, the lights were off and the curtains were drawn. But I had a feeling it wouldn’t be like that with Sexy, New Neighbor. He would want to see everything and that scared the holy hell out of me. How was I supposed to let him look at this body when even I couldn’t?

No. The best thing to do would be to ignore his request. I would send him a note back, saying thank you, but I wasn’t interested, which was such a lie. I didn’t think I had ever been more interested in anything in my life. I wanted more of the previous night. I wanted to feel that rush. I wanted him to watch.

Clearly, I had problems.

I opted for the coward’s way out. I walked back into the apartment and flopped down on the bed to pretend to watch the weather channel with my fruit cup. All the while, my gaze and attention kept darting to the alarm clock. My subconscious slowly counted down the hours that eased by until seven. By six forty-five, I was nervous enough to piss myself. I was trembling and cotton mouthed like I’d spent the day licking the carpet. My stomach writhed with anxiety and anticipation and the fruit cup was making a comeback. I still hadn’t made up my mind and the quicker time ran out, the more I wanted to scream in frustration.

Call me at seven,
he’d said. Well, what if I needed more time? He hadn’t even given me an option. Why couldn’t he have said between seven and infinity? What the hell was I supposed to do?

“Okay, pull yourself together,” I told myself with a firmness that surprised even me. “You will call him and tell him you’re not that kind of girl.”

And what the hell kind of girl was I?
I wondered lamely. The day before, I hadn’t believed I was the sort to finger myself out in public either and yet … so I clearly couldn’t use that excuse. Well, maybe I didn’t need an excuse. I was a grown woman and if I didn’t want to sleep with a stranger, well, damn it, I wasn’t going to sleep with him. It wasn’t like I owed him anything. He got off and got a show just like I did. As far as I was concerned, we were even.

My eyes darted to the clock.

Six fifty-seven.

Where the hell was the time going? I swear it never moved that fast when I needed it to.

“Okay.”

I stalked confidently to the dresser and snatched up the note. Then I walked to the end table and grabbed the phone. I held both tightly in my hands and reminded myself that I was a badass sex goddess and I could do this. Yet the urge to vomit persisted.

My hand shook so badly, I had to stop and get my glasses when the numbers became a vibrating blur. I propped myself on the bed and dialed the digits to block my number before punching in his.

It was exactly seven.

Don’t pick up.

Don’t pick up.

Please, God, I will go to church most every Sunday if you…

Click.

“Hello.”

His voice was a low, husky drawl that made me all but come on the spot. Jesus. The man had sex phone operator voice.

“Hi.” My breathy, terrified squeak was mortifying. “I’m—”

“I know who you are.”

I licked my lips, tasting the bitter tang of my own nerves. “I got your note.” I winced.
He knows you got his note, idiot!
I tried again. “Thank you.”

Apparently, my brain, as smart as it pretended to be, was an absolute moron when it came to men. Where the hell was the sultry vixen it claimed to be? I wondered if it was too late to hang up. Then he spoke.

“You were watching me last night.”

I swallowed before I could speak. “Yes.”

“Do you make a habit of watching people through their windows?”

I snorted slightly. “Yes.”

He was quiet. Then,
“Do you touch yourself when you watch them?”

“No.”

“But you did with me.”

It wasn’t a question, nevertheless…

“Yes.”

So far, this was a pretty easy conversation. I just had to listen and occasionally answer with a short and simple response. I could handle that.

“I liked watching you.”

My core clenched and moistened at his husky confession. My breathing quickened and it was a struggle keeping my voice even.

“Me too.”

I heard what I could only assume was a sharp intake of air and even that was sexy as hell.

“I want to see you come again. I want to hear you.”

The sheets rustled as I shifted, trying to peel my soaked panties away from my throbbing crotch. The man held nothing back and I kind of loved that about him.

“Yes,” I breathed, shamelessly flushed and wanton.

A low growl crossed the line between us and catapulted down the length of my spine. It crackled along my skin, raising goose bumps and hardening my nipples to fine points against the front of my robe. The silk fabric whispered against the sensitive peaks, sending another wave of arousal over me that I barely managed to stifle between my teeth.

I didn’t care how we did it, or where, I wanted him inside me. It didn’t even matter that I didn’t know his name, or even what he looked like. All I knew was that I wanted him and that was all I could think about.

“I want you,” I said, seeing no point in pretending otherwise.

“Christ, I want you, too.”

My gaze went to my dresser, my mind an eager little hamster contemplating just how long it would take to get dressed and to his apartment, when he spoke again.

“But we need rules.”

I blinked. Mindless, satisfying sex had rules?

“Rules?”

A sort of chuckle, sort of groan left him.
“All things worthwhile have rules.”

I supposed he was right, but I wasn’t sure I liked it. Somehow, whenever I thought of crazy animal sex, I imagined no rules and just a lot of fucking.

“Okay?” I decided carefully.

“No names,”
he said right off the bat.
“No attachments. This is purely physical. I don’t want to know about your day, or what your plans are for the future. We will set up a time each evening when we can both meet and go our separate ways afterwards. The main purpose of this is sexual gratification without the mess.”

“So how would this work?” I wondered, trying to work the scene out in my head.

“At first? Webcams. I will watch you and you will watch me. Overtime, should we both agree on it, we will progress the relationship while maintaining the stipulations.”

“Why?” I murmured at last. “Why like this? Why not in person?”

“Because I liked knowing that watching me touch myself got you off. I want to see it again. I want to watch you touch yourself for me. We’re not like other people. The anonymity is what gets us hot. Should we ever met, that mystery will be gone. The rules will change and I don’t want that just yet.”

There was no arguing that point. I did like the mystery. I secretly liked the idea of him getting off simply by watching me touch myself. Maybe partially, it was also a sort of ego boost. It was the knowledge that my body was sexy enough to turn a man on.

“What if we accidentally see each other?” I wondered, momentarily terrified by the idea of him seeing my face and it not living up to his expectations.

“I’m rarely home and when I am, I have no desire to set foot on the terrace. I can assure you, unless we meet in person, you will never see me out there.”

That was a mild relief. There were a lot of things I could give up, neighbor watching wasn’t one of them. I needed that. It was my version of chicken soup for the soul. But I knew I couldn’t if I had to worry he might throw open his windows at any moment and spot me. Regardless, I liked the rest of the plan. So long as he stuck to his part of the bargain and stayed away from the veranda, I would happily meet him online to fool around. Only I wasn’t so sure my bravery would remain steadfast if I ever had to face him. At least, not right away. Insane? Yeah, it was. But we all needed to live a little dangerously from time to time.

“So, how do we start?” I asked. “Over the phone?”